


That Sinking Feeling

by katie_delaney



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dom Harry, Light BDSM, M/M, One Shot, POV Draco Malfoy, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 19:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3948850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_delaney/pseuds/katie_delaney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After failing to carry out his father's wishes Draco is kept prisoner in his room, until his father decides to throw Harry Potter in there with him, to what purpose neither of them are sure. My first post on here so apologies if anything isn't right!</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Sinking Feeling

I have to admit that when I was lying on my sofa, bored and hoping for something desperately exciting to fling itself through my door, it certainly wasn’t this. I was lying there reading, as it’s the only thing to do really in this gilded cage of mine, when my father burst through my door and threw an extremely filthy Harry Potter down on my floor. I rested my book on my lap and looked at him questioningly.

“I brought you a pet,” he says simply.

“Thank you, father,” I say, immediately.

I have taken the Cruciatus Curse a few too many times these last few months, I’ve given up answering back and being rude, I’ve even given up being sarcastic. Instead I’ve actually adopted the obedient polite tone that the house elves use. It seems to be working well for me so far, it’s been weeks since he’s used the curse on me. I have become the perfect, obedient, eyes down son that he always wanted, and all he had to do was turn into a maniac to make it happen. I honestly don’t know what’s happened to him. He never used to be a good man, make no mistake, he was cruel, calculating and manipulative. He was greedy, backstabbing and uncaring, but…he was never like this. He was always very in control before. I’m not sure what happened to him, I imagine it was something to do with Voldemort of course, but I don’t know the specifics. All I know is that one day he started losing his temper more easily, started lashing out at me and mother, or anyone standing nearby really. He’d got that glint in his eye, that insane glint I’d seen in Voldemort, in Bellatrix…but never in my father before.

I’d soon cottoned on and learned to toe the line, it doesn’t take many curses to make me learn a lesson. I’m not a martyr like Potter here, who’s clearly had every curse in the sun thrown at him (apart from the obvious) and still refuses to submit. Idiot. It’s not that I don’t believe in his cause; I do, why else would I be locked in this god damn room…but where will it get him, rebelling and rebelling…there’s no getting out of here for him now. Not unless someone comes to rescue him. If he was sensible he’d at least behave himself till they got here. Get treated a little better maybe.

Father just smiles at me, that mad smile and goes to leave, then remembers something.

“Oh, keep him alive, won’t you?”

“Yes father.”

That glint again and he turns, his platinum hair and dark cloak fanning out behind him as he leaves, slamming the door behind him. I don’t hear it lock but I feel the magic wrapping around it, sealing me and bloody Harry Potter in my bedroom.

“Christ, Potter, you smell like hell.”

He’s slumped on his knees, he’s basically in rags now, though I imagine that what he was wearing was once a muggle jeans and t shirt. It’s ripped and worn away to be just about shorts and a tank top, if you were being generous. I can barely see his pale skin as he’s so covered in filth, and his hair…well his hair did always look a mess, but this is taking it to the next level of birdsnest. He also seems to have developed some kind of matching thick beard. He raises his head now to look at me and I can just see his sparkling green eyes shining out at me through the muck; apparently they haven’t quite beat the sparkle out of him. I wonder how long it’s been seen he’s seen another human being that wasn’t cursing him to hell and back. Or how long it’s been since he’s had a drink.

I go to the jug on my table and pour him a glass of water and offer it to him warily. There is a chance that Potter’s going to go bonkers and try and beat the shit out of me to try and get out of here, he was always a bit mental. I wonder if anyone’s even watching, or if they’d let me get beaten to death. Maybe they are watching us, like cage fighters, placing their bets…I don’t know if Potter knows we’re on the same side or not. I don’t really feel much like singing his praises though, telling him that I think he’s been right all along, that he’s our saviour and start crying or something. It feels a bit too much like surrender. And I’m not surrendering, I’m just acknowledging that Voldemort - and now possibly my father - are psychopaths and that we’d be much better without them in the world. Not that Potter’s doing a very good job of that so far, apparently.

“Thanks,” he mutters, taking it in shaking hands and putting it to his lips. He looks really skinny, he must have lost a lot of weight. I know from the occasionally glance in the shower that the boy used to be ripped. Now he’s struggling to even hold his glass.

I sigh, I really am feeling sorry for Potter aren’t I? I know it’s his own fault for not cooperating and being an idiot, but still. He looks pathetic, it’s not my fault for feeling sorry for him. I wait till he finishes his glass.

“How long since you ate something, Potter?”

“I…” He stops and coughs, clearly not used to using his voice. “I can’t remember.”

I click my fingers and a house elf pops up beside me.

“Sandwich. What do you want, Potter?”

Potter shrugs.

“Cheese and pickle, several, please,” I say, when he fails to respond.

It reappears with them and I watch as Potter slowly makes his way through the whole lot. He finishes and looks like he’s about to flop down on the floor.

“Oh no you don’t, you’re not getting my carpet filthy. Come on, get up.”

He groans as I grab his arm and pull him up, dragging him over to the bathroom and sitting him down in my bath.

“Get these off.” I pull at his top.

He groans in protest. I think he’s protesting because he just wants to go to sleep, not because he’s worrying that me stripping him naked is going to affect his Gryffindor Pride. I think he’s a long way past that. I pull the clothes off his skinny, filthy frame and turn the shower on him. He winces at first, but then seems to decide that it’s actually quite pleasant and relaxes, letting me point the shower at him like a powerwasher on a particularly grubby patio. It takes a very long time before the water runs clean. I run a bath then, spelling his shoulders to the top of the bath so that he doesn’t slide down and drown whilst I’m not paying attention. I slide in myself at the opposite end (this still puts a good few meters between us) and relax for a while.

His hair’s irritating me. And his beard. It’s a mess. It’s like spring cleaning your entire house and leaving the bed unmade. I drift over to him and pull him back towards me, propping him up against my back so that I can wash his hair. I’m not really paying attention, just soaping up his hair, rinsing and soaping, trying not to think about what it is I’m washing out his hair, or that it’s now getting in the bath we’re both sitting in, when he lets out the tiniest sigh. I wash his beard for good measure too.

I roll my eyes at him.

“This isn’t a massage parlour, Potter…” I drawl.

 I don’t think he even hears me, just relaxes against me and sighs again.

Eventually I get his hair clean and rub through the conditioner, wondering if it’s the first his hair has ever known. I laugh slightly to myself at the thought.

“Are you trying to brainwash me?” he mumbles.

“What?” I laugh at him. “No, you idiot, I’m trying to wash your hair.”

“Like Stockholm syndrome, yeah?”

“Well you can suck my cock if you like, but I was just trying to prevent my room being infested with headlice…”

“Feels nice…” he slurs.

 He sounds almost drunk. I notice that his nails are long and filthy, so I clean and cut them too, before dragging him out the bath.

I put my dressing gown on and only really notice then that he’s completely naked, without any of his rags or dirt to cover him up. I sit him on the edge of my bed, trying not to think about how wrong it is to have Potter’s naked arse on my bed and get him some freshly ironed pyjamas. He passively lets me put them on him. I dry his hair and trim his beard a bit and I wonder if this is what it’s like to have a doll.

“Wanna go to sleep,” he mumbles.

“Have a glass of water first.”

The sooner Potter gets back to taking care of himself the better.

He drinks the water I give him with a little help from me, his hands are floppy now. I don’t even consider making him sleep on the sofa, it’s ludicrous really since my bed is even bigger than kingsized. I’m not sure there’s even a word for how big my bed is. Basically we can share the bed and be a good three meters apart, and that’s good enough for me.

I pull back the covers, he immediately takes my side of the bed. I roll my eyes and let him, tomorrow night when he’s hopefully more conscious I can set the ground rules.

“I must be dreaming,” he sighs happily as I throw the quilt over him.

I pinch his shoulder and he winces.

“Nope,” I tell him.

“Brat,” he mutters under his breath.

My mouth drops open at his audacity and he gives the smallest smile before burying his head down in my pillow and closing his eyes. It’s only 7pm, so I go back to my sofa and pick my book back up. I try and think about how I feel about my new guest. I have no idea how long he’s even here for, I know I’m just babysitting before it’s time for whatever ridiculous plan Voldemort’s dreamed up for him, but it feels a little comforting to know that I’m not the only prisoner here, even if he doesn’t know we’re on the same side. It’s still nice to have the company of someone that isn’t a sadistic psychopath, at any rate. I should probably enjoy it while it lasts.

                                                                                                         *

 It takes a lot longer than I thought it would for him to get back to normal. He sleeps a lot, I wake him up and make him eat, make him shower every now and again, washing his hair for him since he refuses to. I think this might just be because he likes me washing his hair, he writhes against my back like I’m doing something entirely different to him. Strange boy. It’s a few weeks before he seems to really wake up. His green eyes snap open and fix on me.

We’re in bed, its morning, sunshine is beaming in through my double bay windows. I say it’s my bedroom, but it’s more like a small apartment really, just without the kitchen, because with the house elves why would I need one? I have my bathroom, my ridiculous bed and my ridiculous wardrobe. Down the steps I have my sofa suite (a sofa and two arm chairs), and my television. Past that is my small dinning table, and my desk sits in the corner, flanked by two large book shelves. My beautiful gilded cage is flooded with sunshine, it’s no wonder Potter thought he was dreaming, he might as well have woken up in paradise.

“Good morning,” I say when he fails to say anything, just stares at me then looks around as if he’s woken up for the first time.

“Hey,” he manages eventually, casually, like we’re lovers waking up in bed or something. “I’m really clean.”

“Yes,” I say. “I made you wash probably more than you’re used to.”

He rolls his eyes at me.

“I remember…being down in the dungeon, but…not being brought up here.”

“You’ve been here about three weeks.”

He frowns, and I try not to notice how adorable he looks when he’s confused. Am I falling for my pet, or am I just bored and looking for amusement? I’m not sure it really matters that much.

“When did you come here?”

“It was November 15th…”

“Wow.”

“What date is it now?”

“May 11th ,” I tell him.

“Fuck,” he says, startled.

I’m not sure I’ve ever heard him swear before. He seems older, more mature somehow…maybe his eyes look darker. It could also be the beard. Speaking of which, he puts his hand up to his face, noticing something different.

“What the fuck is this on my face?”

“Oh, your beard? I didn’t want to shave it off incase it was some sort of fashion statement.”

He glares at me. It is true enough though, I wasn’t sure whether he arrived here with a beard or not. I’ve never managed to grow more than a little fluff on my chin, but I can imagine that growing a beard would be a fairly lengthy process and that you wouldn’t really appreciate some just coming along and shaving it off when you were half comatose.

“My razor’s in the bathroom.” 

He nods and sits up far too quickly, falling back on the pillow straight away.

“Fuck,” he curses.

“Slowly; you’re weak as hell, Potter, you need to take it slowly.”

He glares at me again but does as he’s told, pushing himself up slowly and swinging his legs around. He looks down at himself, at my pyjamas and looks at his hands, at the mini manicure I’ve given him.

“My nails have never been this clean.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

I’m waiting for him to react to this situation he’s found himself in, but so far he seems to be still in a state of shock, blinking in the light like a newborn lamb.

He stands up slowly and wobbles. I walk around to his side of the bed and offer him my arm. He looks at me measuringly, ah, there is that Gryffindor pride. Eventually he decides he can trust me, or decides something anyway, and takes my arm, letting me guide him into the bathroom. I get out my razor for him and he just looks at me blankly.

“What?” he asks.

“Are you actually living in the dark ages? I have no idea how to use one of these.”

I look at him uncomprehendingly for a moment until I remember seeing once an advert for a plastic disposable thing with blades on it in a muggle magazine, calling itself a ‘razor’.

I sigh.

“Sit down.”

I drag a chair in front of my mirror and push him down into it. It surprises me how compliantly he sits, he does still seem to be in a bit of a daze.

I wipe shaving cream over his face and he shivers.

“’s cold.”

“Mmm, razors even colder. How have you never had a cut throat shave?”

Potter shrugs.

“I’m surprised you trust me.” I might have purred that in his ear as I lean a little closer than is necessary.

“I imagine that if you wanted to kill me you’d have already taken your opportunity by now…” Potter says as I slide the blade across his cheeks then swill it in the sink.

“I’m not much of a killer.”

 I’m still not up to swearing my loyalty to the golden idiot, but I feel like he should know this at least. I quickly tire of standing and instead kneel down in between his legs, getting a bit too close than is probably necessary. Even I’m not sure what I’m up to. Though I am, really. Who am I kidding? I want to chain this boy down to my bed and fuck him until his screams fill up this stupid manor. I want to make the boy wonder submit to me, fully and absolutely. I want him to give everything up to me, let me take him anyway I want, do whatever I want. But not because I’m forcing him, not because he’s my ‘prisoner’, but because he wants it.

I shake the thought from my head and concentrate on the task at hand. I flick my eyes up from my blade to his occasionally, but he’s just staring ahead blankly, his chest rising and falling in a completely calm and composed manner. Pity.

“There you go.”

“Thank you, Draco,” he says politely.

Draco? I look at him suspiciously but he’s washing the shaving cream off his now smooth face, giving me no clue as to what he’s thinking.

“No problem,” I say calmly, and go back into the bedroom. “You want some breakfast?”

“Yeah, please,” he calls through the door.

It worries me how natural this feels. He walks back through. No, I was wrong, he looks much better clean shaven. God help me. It pains me greatly, has always pained me greatly really, that the boy who lived is straight.

“What would you like?” I ask him.

I’m sure a slight smirk pulls at his lips before he says he’s starving, wants a full English. Fine. I order that for him and have a simple bowl of muesli myself. We sit down at the table and eat in what almost feels like a companionable silence. I wonder when exactly we’re going to talk about this. I don’t really feel the need right away. Potter is improving the view in my bedroom significantly, and it feels nice to be around someone who isn’t psychotic, that you don’t have to have your guard up for.

“So…” he starts.

Here we go.

“How long have you been kept in this room for?”

I guess Potters a bit quicker than I give him credit for.

I shrug.

“They let me out for dinner sometimes,” I try to sound nonchalant.

“Years, right?”

I nod.

“Is Voldemort here?”

“No idea. They don’t really tell me things anymore, since I failed to kill Dumbledore and generally do what they wanted after that. My father…he’s gone slightly psychotic.”

“Slightly?” Potter barks. “Jesus. That man knows his way around torture curses, I’ll give him that.”

“I know.”

He winces.

“I thought he wouldn’t touch you.”

“Mmm, me neither. I learnt to behave pretty fast.”

I’m not sure why I’m telling him all this. I wasn’t planning on telling him a thing.

“Do you have your wand?”

“No,” I say bitterly. “What happened to yours?”

“Fuck knows,” he says, he doesn’t seem that bothered. I wonder if the rumours about him doing wandless magic are true. Why do I like him swearing so much?

“I’m sure it’s around here somewhere…if they’ve not blasted it to pieces.”

He shakes his head.

“No, its special, paired with Voldemorts. I doubt they’ll destroy it.”

I’m waiting for some hair-brained scheme to get us out of here, but it doesn’t come, he just carries on eating his breakfast.

“Where’s your mother?”

“In her chambers. Pretty much the same as me. I see her at dinner sometimes when they ask me to go. She barely raises her eyes off the table, she just gives me the occasional terrified glance.”

He frowns.

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, she married him.”

He doesn’t really respond to this, but I can feel him thinking, I can practically see the cogs in his head turning.

“Don’t even think about breaking out of here, Potter. You’ll get us all killed.”

He just smiles at me in a way I really don’t trust.

“Don’t worry about it, I can only just walk from your bed to the bathroom, I don’t think I’m up to escaping from anywhere just yet.” He sweeps his eyes round my bedroom/apartment/whatever you want to call it. “Besides, it’s nice here. It’ll be good for some r’n’r before I get out of here.”

I rolled my eyes at him. R’n’r…I’ve never felt more inclined to smack him. It surprises me that it’s the first so far, but really, all the feuds and fights at school seem ridiculous and easily discardable now, especially since I’ve reluctantly found myself on Potter’s side.

“Well, feel free to help yourself to whatever you want. I have books and a tv…that’s really all the entertainment I have.”

He smirks at me.

“Thanks.”

Christ. Is he flirting with me? I narrow his eyes at him.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I shrug.

“Tea?” he asks me.

I snap my fingers and the house elves bring us a tray of tea. I pour and he watches me carefully.

“What?” I ask him as I stir in the milk.

“Nothing.” He grins at me.

God, has Potter always been this insufferable?

“Do they ever let you have newspapers?”

I shake my head and blow on my tea.

“No. Honestly, I only know what day it is from being strict with my calendar.”

“Why do you think they brought me up here?”

I shrug.

“No idea.” I have been asking myself the same question. It’s no less guarded than the dungeon, I’m sure, and it’s not as if I have a wand he could use, but dropping Potter into the lap of luxury seems like a strange move.

“Maybe they hoped you’d finish me off,” he jokes.

“I think it might be the opposite, actually.”

 “Keep me alive? I guess it does stop them having to poke me in the ribs every few days down there to make sure I’m still breathing.”

“Maybe they want you back to full strength.”

“For what?” he asks, frowning.

“I dunno,” I shrug, I was just thinking aloud. I hadn’t really thought it through. “Sacrificial ritual?”

“Thanks, makes me feel tonnes better.”

I don’t really have any comforting words for him. I’ve long given hope of ever getting out of here. Even if Potter brought his army to our doors, I always imagined that my father would just kill me out of spite so I’d never be able to escape.

“Does that work?” he asked me suddenly, looking at the television. It does look a tad out of place in my room, it’s an old thing, or so I’m told. Before…I got locked in here, I told my mother I was bored one summer, and he gave me this, with some discs. My father rolled his eyes, said something about muggle nonsense. I never really used it, just kept it in a corner, until I got locked in here and it soon became a treasured form of entertainment.

“That? Oh yeah, I watch discs on it.”

“Discs?” He frowns at me.

I show him.

“These are muggle films,” he says, frowning at me.

“I know. I like them.”

He smiles at me, looking almost proud of me. I want to smack him again. Patronising git. Thinks he knows me, that I’m just like my father…I try to quell the rage rising up inside me.

“Have you tried tuning it in?”

I look at him blankly.

“What?”

He walks over to it and starts fiddling with buttons on the side. It took me a good couple of hours to work out how it worked, or what it was ever for. He susses it in minutes but frowns, playing with it and getting nothing but static.

“Oh,” he says looking at the back disappointedly. “The aerial’s broken.”

“The what?”

“The aerial. It’s like the aerial on a wireless, only it broadcasts channels, like the news and things, just…in pictures. Like the discs you watch.”

“Oh.”

“I thought we might be able to pick it up and have an idea what might be going on but…” he shrugs.

“Sorry.” I finish my tea. “I’m gonna have a shower.”

“Okay,” he says, nodding, “you mind if I have a look at your books?”

“No, go ahead.”

It’s still strange watching him walk around in my pyjamas. I guess now that he’s woken up I should probably offer him some clothes, although my clothes are never going to fit him.

I go into the shower and close my eyes, trying not think about bloody Potter…about how much I want to snog him silly and tear off his clothes. God. This is going to be torture. I wasn’t really aware how long it had been since I had sex till he turned up. When I was at school I couldn’t go a day without a shag, it wasn’t a problem there of course, I could find plenty of willing bodies without having to leave the dungeons.

When I ended up locked in here it wasn’t exactly high on my list of worries, until now. Maybe that’s why they put him here, to torture me. I wasn’t exactly quiet about my preferences as I shagged my way round half of Hogwarts, sometimes I think my father thought of it as a double betrayal, turning to both of the dark sides all at once. He never really spoke it until he went crazy, throwing gay slurs at me routinely with his torture curses. Maybe he thought throwing straight gorgeous Potter in here would finally tip me over the edge. 

I groan and wrap my hand round my stupidly hard cock. I lean my head back against the cold tiles and close my eyes, giving into the fact that I’m going to wank over the boy wonder. I hate myself already. I play with him in my head, trying to pick a good position to fantasise about fucking him in…I’d like him on his knees really, then I could tell myself that it’s all about just wanting power over him, after the whole school thing…but no. I want to see his face. Yes, I’ll fuck him on his back, his ankles on my shoulders, holding his wrists above his head, still in control.

I’m getting myself close, moaning slightly and completely forgetting that the walls in here aren’t exactly soundproof. I’m sure he can’t hear me over the shower. I make sure I’m whispering as I start chanting his name, my new wanking mantra apparently. God, I can’t even remember the last time I even got myself off.

Suddenly I’m pushed back against the tiles, hard. I cry out and my eyes fly open, terrified for a second that it’s my father, another curse, another spell. I’m tensing already, waiting for the pain before I realise that it’s just Potter. Just Potter. Naked, and pushing me up against my bathroom tiles. His hands are flying all over me, desperate, he’s biting down on my neck, practically snarling in my neck and grinding his hard cock against my hip.

I squirm against him, trying to push him back, and I’m confused as I fail where on earth this strength has come from.

“What the fuck are you…”

He finally grabs my wrists and pins them above my head, a complete reversal of my fantasy and holds me still. I still don’t know how he’s so strong all of a sudden. Or maybe I’m just not really struggling. He’s panting, his eyes burning into mine, they’re wild, he’s wild, a wild fucking animal, I can feel it now. All that power bubbling underneath his skin. God help me.

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing?” he asks, resting his forehead against mine.

Fuck. It’s killing me just having him this close, when I was so close in the first place, I feel like he could just grind his hips up against mine and make me spill all over him.

“You’re straight…” I say weakly.

He laughs, dark and sexy and suddenly I feel like one of the first years, swooning over Harry bloody Potter. My knees feel positively weak.

“No…I’m not.”

I have never heard such beautiful words in all my life.

“Oh,” I say weakly. He laughs again.

“Just cos I wasn’t so…public about it as you, Draco.”

I can’t handle him using my first name, the way he purrs it. I have never been so horny in my whole life. I’m sure. I close my eyes again, I can’t take those gleaming emerald eyes. No one should be allowed to be this gorgeous.

“Stay there,” he says and drops to his knees in front of me.

I stare as he takes my dripping cock in his mouth.

“Fuck!”

The boy who lived sucks cock. I am pretty sure I’m never going to get over this. I gaze in wonder as he slides his lips down. I need to play with that hair, I go to move my hand but find them both firmly stuck to the wall. What the fuck? I pull harder and he looks up at me, clearly amused. Fucking wandless magic, and he uses it for bondage. I’m starting to think maybe I don’t know Potter as well as I thought.

The boy who lived sucks cock very well. Oh god. Fuck. He has a seriously devious tongue, he keeps swooping down, taking me all the way in his mouth, till I’m brushing the back of his throat then pulls slowly back, teasing the head of my cock with his tongue before swooping down again. I was so close before, it’s no wonder I’m already nearly coming in his mouth.

“Fuck…fuck…ah, Potter, gonna make me fucking come…” They are honestly words I never thought I’d utter. I feel this strange tightening on my cock. I stare at him in horror as I realise what he’s done. How does he even know about spells like that?! I was only just beginning to learn them myself, let alone know how to do them fucking wandlessly.

I whine and pull on my wrists again as he sucks faster, harder, and I’m utterly unable to come. I could actually cry. This is so utterly the wrong way round, who on earth does Potter think he is? I am not submissive. I do not do this. I’d tell him so if I wasn’t so desperate for him to take that bloody spell off me.

“Potter, please, god…you can’t do this to me…” I whimper. I sound pathetic, I know it, and I don’t care. “I haven’t come in fucking weeks…”

He just moves his mouth faster and faster before pulling back completely and standing up. I close my eyes, I can’t look him in the eyes.

“Look at me, Draco,” he says sternly.

I close them tighter. I feel him run a finger along my jaw, feel his other hand on my lower back, moving down. Oh god. He wants to fuck me. Christ no. I am not letting Potter fuck me. No way.

“Open your eyes,” he says firmly.

I reluctantly open them, if anything just to see what he’s up to. He’s smiling knowingly at me, dragging his eyes up and down me, as if I’m something he owns, already his, like he’s fucked me a million times before.

“Potter, please…” I say, my voice sounds choked back.

“I wanna fuck you,” he whispers in my ear.

“I know.” It’s not really much of a reply, but it’s all I can manage right now. He chuckles in my ear.

“You don’t seem like the taking type,” he muses, tracing his fingers down, in between my thighs.

“Uh…” at least I think that’s the noise I make. I am absolute putty in his hands. It’s mortifying. I think he can feel me breaking. I just want to come, I’m starting not to care so much about how.

“Open your legs,” he whispers in my ear, encouraging me with his hand. His other hand is still resting on my jaw, he’s staring in my eyes intently. I stare back, trying to feel the slightest bit of defiance, trying to glare. By the way he’s smirking at me I have a feeling it’s not really working.

“Open your legs, Draco,” he says again.

His hands are nowhere near my cock, and I have a feeling there’s only one way they’re going to be.

“Ugh…” I groan and shuffle my legs apart a little.

He grins at me, a wicked little grin and I wonder how many people have seen Potter like this. I genuinely wouldn’t have believed anyone if they’d told me he could be like this.

“You’re gonna love it,” he purrs at me.

God fucking help me. I am having serious trouble adjusting my idea of Potter as blushing virgin to apparently power crazy sex god.

“You ever been fucked before?” he asks me.

This is getting silly, the word ‘fuck’ on someone’s lips should not turn me on this much.

“Yeah…only once.”

He frowns and I think maybe I should have lied, told him I was a virgin. Let him take his whole dominance thing even higher.

“Who?” he asks, like a jealous lover.

“Blaise, only once.”

“Did you like it?”

“No,” I say honestly. “just felt like he was tearing me in half.”

The memory takes my arousal down a notch, and I am very aware of how big Potter’s cock is against my leg.

“He clearly didn’t know what he was doing. You are going to love this,” he whispers in my ear.

“Would you just get on with it so I can come already?” I groan at him.

“Oh no,” he chuckles in my ear. “This isn’t how this is going to be. You’re not just going to grit your teeth and bear it while I get myself off, waiting for the end so I’ll take you with me.”

I look at him questioningly.

“I’m going to make you love every fucking second,” he tells me, “I am going to take you out your head with pleasure, and by the end you’re going to spend your every waking breath begging me to fuck you again…”

I can’t help but splutter at this.

“You are, you just wait…” he whispers and then, before I can tell him to get the fuck on with it again, he’s dropped to knees again in front of me, sucking until I’m just as close as I was before.

“Ah fuck god…Potter…please...just…” Apparently I’ve forgotten how to talk. I’m starting to think Potter could teach my father a thing or two about torture.

He pulls back, releases my hands for a second, spins me round so that I’m facing the wall and my wrists are stuck again. I groan in defeat, then I feel his hands on my arse. Fuck. God. How did I get myself into this situation? He traces both hands up and down my arse before spreading it in front of him. I nearly squeal in embarrassment. My eyes are screwed shut, trying to pretend this isn’t happening.

“You have a lovely arse,” he tells me.

I just squirm in embarrassment.

“Relax, Draco…I told you, I’m not gonna hurt you…”

I don’t think he realises that it’s not the pain that I’m worried about. I shriek as I feel his tongue in between my legs, first at the fact that Potter would do something so dirty (though really I’m not sure why this surprises me after his dirty words), second that it actually feels pretty fucking good. He has got a wicked tongue, swirling around and around and then plunging inside me. I shriek at little every time he does it, and much to my horror I can feel myself pushing myself back against that god damn tongue.

I try to tell myself that I’m so damn close and desperate that anything would probably turn me on by now. He taps the inside of my thigh.

“Wider.”

I nearly slide down the wall. Help. He taps me again impatiently and I do as I’m told. Maybe I’ve just got too good at being obedient. I slide my left foot sideways.

“That’s it,” he coos at me. He dips his tongue deeper and I curse, pushing my forehead against the cold tiles. I need to get off so fucking bad.

“Potter, please…fuck…” I stutter.

“Shh…I told you, I’m not doing this quick.”

I roll my eyes. I hate him. I utterly utterly hate the bastard.

“Potterrrrr….” I growl at him.

He slides a slick finger inside me and I gasp, wishing to god I had something to hold on. I have never felt so god damn exposed with anyone before, and if I was going to pick anyone to see me like this, it would not be Potter. I whimper, and okay maybe it does feel a little good, and he’s wrapped his other hand round my cock, moving both hands slowly. He adds another finger and continues moving his hands together, perfectly in time with each other.

“Oh…” It’s starting to feel good, and the very idea makes me tense.

“Shh…I’ve got you…just relax…”

Relax. Right. My supposed worst enemy is finger fucking me and I’m supposed to relax. He brushes somewhere that feel like electric and I snap my hips back against him.

“Ah!” I cry out in surprise.

 He chuckles behind me and I think he’s very lucky that my hands are stuck to the wall right now or I might break his stupidly handsome face. Ugh. Now he knows where I want it, he’s relentless, his fingers pushing deeper inside me, always brushing that spot, his other hands still stroking my cock and I swear I would have come a thousand times over by now if it weren’t for that fucking spell.

Maybe it does feel good. Maybe it actually feels like fucking bliss. I can hear myself moaning, how bloody embarrassing. He adds another finger and it stings ever so slightly, but it’s nothing compared to what it felt like before. Besides I’m starting to like it, I’m starting to like feeling stretched, full, fucked…they’re all obscene things to be liking, I know, but…god. It’s good.

“You okay up there, Draco?”

“Uhuh…” I sigh. It makes me feel a little sick how feminine and blissful my voice sounds.

His fingers are sliding in and out of me easily now, and I want…I cringe at the very thought of what I want. At the very thought of wanting it.

He moves both his hands faster and I’m fairly sure I’m whimpering out and gasping in, my new form of breathing. He stops suddenly and takes his hands away and I nearly sob but bite my tongue, settling for a groan instead.

“You’re utterly gorgeous, do you know that?” he purrs in my ear.

“Would you just shut up and fuck me already?” I snap at him, I’m really not in the mood to be flattered.

“Impatient little brat,” he sighs but complies and unsticks my wrists, pulling me over to the sink and pushing me over it roughly. Oh jesus. He’s going to make me watch. That’s just not fair. The mirror above my sink spans the whole wall, there’s really no avoiding it. Unless I close my eyes, or stare at the taps.

“Spread your damn legs, Draco, how many times do I have to tell you?”

It’s quite good job the sinks holding me up right now. I think I’m going to faint. He whispers some spell behind me, it feels like lube inside me, but it feels a bit different, tingles a little. I do as he tells me, another man I have learnt to obey, and he pushes his cock inside me.

“Oh fuuuucckkk….” I moan, the feeling of Potter, inside me, is beyond description.

“Yesssss, Drac…you feel so good….” He sighs. He’s been so…selfless so far (if you can call it that, I’m sure he’s been getting off on every single moan that’s fallen from my lips) that he was getting something out of this too.

I chance a look up at him, at Harry fucking Potter, bending me over my own god damn sink, balls deep inside me and grinning at me like an idiot. God what a sight. He’s fucking gorgeous, I don’t know why I ever tried to deny it to myself. His hair’s damp and dishevelled from the shower, an utter mess again, I don’t know why I even bothered. And those god damn dazzling eyes, staring into my soul.

He starts to move, experimentally slowly, I know he doesn’t want to hurt me, but right now I need none of his fucking gentleness. Suddenly I feel like I need this, need him to fuck me, like I’ve never needed anything before.

“Fuck me, hard, properly, please…” I babble.

He gives me a knowing smile in the mirror and runs his fingers lightly down my back. I shiver. I feel like he owns me now. I know it’s stupid, god knows how many guys I’ve fucked, and even like this, making them submit to me, and I’ve never felt any ownership over them after it. Any connection. But for some reason this feels different. I feel like I’m his now. Fuck.

He starts to move faster and I grab hold of the taps, as if they might save me somehow. Nothing should ever feel this fucking good, I’m sure, especially not this, and especially not him. But it does. It really really does.

“Oh…oh…oh…” I’m moaning like a girl, I know I am, but I just can’t seem to care.

“Yeah you like that Drac?”

Drac. What an appalling nickname.

“Yesss god don’t fucking stop,” I moan.

“What?” he asks slightly breathlessly. “Ever?”

I laugh slightly.

“Yeah.”

This would not be a bad way to spend an eternity, with stars in front of my eyes and on the brink of what is threatening to be the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. Harry Potter staring at me in awe the mirror like I’m some sort of angel. That’s what they’ve always compared me too, my long string of ex lovers, angel or dark angel, depending on whether I was in their favour at the time.

He’s driving me higher and higher, and I’m pretty sure if he doesn’t let me come some I’m going to pass out. Not that I’m not enjoying his verging on brutal strokes, pushing myself back against them, crying out every time he hits my prostate with such fucking precision. It amazes me how fluidly we move together, I’d have thought we’d have been fighting over rhythm and position the entire way through.

I watch him in the mirror, watch his mouth dropping open, his cheeks flushing and a sheen appears on his forehead.

“Draco…Draco…oh…god…”

He’s fucking me so hard now I’m starting to worry about the stability of this sink. And the taps.

“Fuck…fuck…harder Potter…harder…” I’m squealing underneath him, I need to get off so fucking bad I could sob.

He grins at me in the mirror and pounds me hard and wraps his hand round my cock. I scream, loud, shaking underneath him as he finally gets rid of that damn spell and I come hard, all over my sink, black spots threatening my vision. I’m vaguely aware of him coming inside me, yelling and clutching at my hips before collapsing on top of me.

My head drops forward, now I really do not want to look at him. He kisses my neck and I groan, aftershocks shaking through me. He turns his kiss into a nip of his teeth.

“Mmm, Draco, you’re so fucking delicious.”

I roll my eyes. I am not a piece of fucking cake. I turn around to tell him where to fucking go when he grabs me and pulls me into a kiss. We’re both kneeling on the cold tile floor. I am really not one for kissing, but to my horror I groan and open my mouth, welcoming his slow tender kisses. My heart flips and I shove him away in horror.

He just smirks at me.

“Oh stop it.”

He pulls me back towards him and kisses me again, holding my face tight against his as he all but ravages my mouth. I give into him eventually, letting him kiss me horrifically well, feeling my heart doing it’s gymnastics routine in my chest with increasing anxiety. Eventually he pulls back and I look at him in utter horror.

He laughs at the look on my face.

“Don’t look so bloody worried Draco. I’m a Gryffindor remember, I’m not gonna break your heart.

His ability to see straight through me is even more worrying than the heart gymnastics. I get up and walk back into the bedroom and pull on some clothes without a word to him.

He follows me, butt naked, and I can’t help but bloody stare. His skin’s practically glowing from sex and I can see now that despite how much weight he lost down there I can still see the remnants of a six pack.

“When did you get so bloody hot?” I demand of him, spitting it at him like an insult.

He just gives me an easy smile.

“Can I borrow some clothes?”

I throw some trousers and a t-shirt at him, hoping they’ll be loose enough to fit over his broader frame.

I walk over to the table, getting the elves to bring me more tea. He sits opposite me and holds his tea cup out for some. I glare at him but pour him some anyway.

“Draco…” he says eventually.

“What?” I sigh, I feel exhausted. Mentally and physically. And my arse hurts.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Of course I do!” I snap at him. “But you can’t, Potter, I’ve tried and I’ve tried but there’s no way out of this fucking room! And if you try they’ll probably think I’ve helped you and kill us both!”

He finishes his tea and stands up.

“Is there anything you want to take with you?” he asks me.

“What?!”

“Is there anything you want to take with you? Clothes?”

When I continue to look at him blankly he rolls his eyes, going into my wardrobe and bundling my clothes things into a bag he finds in there.

“Potter, what are you doing?! Stop messing up my things!”

“We won’t be able to come back here, Draco, not till we’ve won. And we’ll probably destroy half the manor in the first place. I’m serious, anything you want, pick it up and put it in this bag.”

I shake my head at him but decide to indulge him in this ridiculous game. I pick up a few books, discs, favourite shirts.

“Okay fine, do your magic trick.” I roll my eyes at him.

“Would your mother come with us?”

“No,” I say sadly, if we ever managed to get out of here, I know she wouldn’t come.

“Right, hold this.” He picks up the bag and gives it to me and puts his arm around me.

“Hold tight.”

I look at him extremely sceptically, thinking that Potter’s finally gone mad, actually shagged himself silly, but sigh and put my arm round him all the same.

He starts muttering under his breath and takes my other arm, puts it round the other side of him.

“Hold on properly.”

I roll my eyes and wrap my arms around him properly. Suddenly the whole room starts to shake.

“Fuck! Potter what the fuck are you doing?!”

He just carries on muttering under his breath, and suddenly we’re yanked out of my bedroom and land in a completely different house. I try not to vomit, slide along apparition has never been a favourite mode of transport for me.

“Sorry, you okay?”

I gasp my breath back.

I stare around at the faces of Potter’s friends standing around us, looking concerned.

“How the fuck did you do that?!”

“He’s a bit good,” one of his friends drawls at me. I ignore them all completely, not bothering to unwind my arms from round his waist.

“If you could just get out of there why the hell didn’t you?”

“Rescue mission, I needed to get you out before we attacked the Manor, but there’s some fucking weird magic on your room, I could get out but I couldn’t get in. I had to find another way.”

“You fucking idiot! They could have fucking killed you!”

“Language! Boys!” Someone is shrieking at us.

“Oh shut up,” he says rolling his eyes at me. “They didn’t, and I got you out of that prison, so stop bloody…”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?!”

“I needed to know who’s side you were on.”

“Lovely. Great. Massively trusting and…”

He kisses me. In front of all of his Slytherin/Malfoy hating friends. He full on snogs me. The awkward silence that surrounds us is deafening.

“Come on, let’s get your stuff upstairs,” he says, dragging me out of the circle of gawking Weasleys and god knows who else and up the stairs.

He dumps the bag on the floor of his bedroom and pushes me down on the bed, snogging me hard.

“What am I, your fucking boyfriend now?” I protest, trying to push him off.

“Yes. Stop whining.”

“I’m not…”

He kisses me again to cut me off. He locks the door and casts a silencing charm.

“I wanna fuck you again,” he tells me and starts ripping off my clothes.

“I…” I splutter, trying to object, to adjust to my new surroundings and work out what the fuck is going on.

“I swear I’ll explain it all and get you settled in afterwards. Please. I need to be inside you again…”

Fuck. His words are getting me hard again and suddenly I’m pushed over the bed and naked and he’s pushing inside me again. I howl, in pain, pleasure or humiliation I really couldn’t tell you.

“Oh fucking yesss, Draco…” he moans in my ear. “I have wanted you for so fucking long. I am never going to get enough of you.”

I’m whimpering underneath him as he fucks me again, I’m so sensitive that I’m begging him in seconds, but he ignores my pleas, just pounds me hard, and for some fucked up reason it feels like everything I’ve ever wanted too.

“Yeah…yeah…fuck yeah Potter fuck me harder…” Did I really just say that?

“Mmm yes Drac…yesss…” He’s fucking me so hard I’m surprised that the bed’s not moving across the room. I have the most ridiculous grin on my face, this is the most amazing pleasure, him filling me up like this, taking me, my hard cock grinding against the sheets.

“Ah fuck…yeah…yeah…yeah…” he groans in my ear, coming inside me, pulling me back a little so he can grab hold of my desperately hard cock, getting me off in a few strokes.

“Oh fuck!” I dig my nails into the sheets as I come, shuddering underneath him. I turn as he pulls out of me and lie on my back, finally giving in to what my body wants and pulling him on top of me so as much of our sweat soaked skin as possible is touching.

“Are you glad I rescued you now?”

“Took your sweet fucking time about it didn’t you,” I mutter darkly in his ear and he bursts out laughing. I let my heart do it’s gymnastics this time, it can do what it likes, I’ve decided that for sex this good, I don’t even care if it is Harry Potter. And I’m out now. I know I’m only breathing the air of a different bedroom, but it feels like the freshest air in the whole world. Away from Voldemort, away from my father, and with someone who I’m now quite convinced is one of the most powerful wizards in the world lying on top of me, having risked life and limb to rescue me. Maybe it’s right to be getting a bit excited. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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